My very first job - Tony Cunnane's Afterthoughts

Written on 10 October 2011

On the morning that we’re waiting to see whether the Defence Secretary Dr Liam Fox will keep his job, be sacked, or be forced to resign, my diary tells me that 58 years ago this very day, I went for my very first job interview.

I was living in Salford and should have already started my 6th Form studies at Salford Grammar School. I'd had my timetable for several weeks and I was going to be the only student studying music. I hadn’t started at the beginning of September because the Head Master had 'accidentally' learned, to his fury, that our family was expecting to move shortly. My Dad was a Prison Officer at Strangeways and, like all Prison Officers, was moved around every two years or so at the whim of the Prison Commissioners. The move, to Wakefield on the other side of the Pennines, was not entirely unexpected but it was the very last thing that I wanted. The only uncertainty was the date of the move.

Thus for several weeks I’d been languishing at home while my former school friends were already beavering away at their 6th form studies. On 10 October 1953 Dad took me to the Salford Youth Employment Service to seek advice. It was most unusual in those days of full employment for them to have a boy with 6 GCE O Levels and a guaranteed 6th form place seeking any job, let alone a temporary one. In fact, the only position they had on their books was for a clerk at a small building firm. It was arranged that I should go there later the same day for an interview.

I went for my first-ever job interview, wearing my only decent suit, my Grammar School tie, a white shirt with detached collar, and my black, highly-polished shoes. The firm, George Johnson and Son, had their offices in a very old and grimy converted town house overlooking Salford Crescent - and barely half a mile from the Grammar School. I've never been prone to depression but to say I was miserable as I walked to the interview does not by any means describe my state of mind on my lonely walk from home that afternoon 58 years ago today.

The image below shows just part of my diary for that day.

Young Mr Johnson seemed old to me and his father seemed positively ancient, but they were friendly. Mr Johnson Snr, intended retiring and until they could make a permanent appointment they needed someone to run the office, maintain the inventory of the stock in the stores in a back room and run the petty cash account while young Mr Johnson was out on the jobs.

"We can pay only 25 shillings a week," said Mr Johnson Jnr, rather apologetically. "It’s only a temporary job, you see, until you move to Wakefield or go off for your National Service."

With nothing else on offer, the following Monday I started. My salary for a 45-hour 5½ day week equated to £1.25 in today’s money, exactly the same as my parents had been paying for two of my professional violin lessons with Mr Cunliffe of the Hallé Orchestra! Of those 25 shillings, five were spent on bus fares, five were my pocket money, and the remainder I gave to Mum for board and lodging.

The job was never really interesting and to make matters worse I had to pass the Grammar School to get there. I felt completely abandoned and every day I pondered what might have been had I still been going to school. For hours on end I was left alone in the office answering the telephone and occasionally issuing items from the stockroom to the workers. The workers were banned from the office; they had to make their requests through a small hatchway so I never had an opportunity to get to know them. Every once in a while a cheerful cleaning lady, who apparently looked after several premises along the terrace, brought me a mug of tea. It was the highlight of my day when that happened!

More about my first job and why I had left school unexpectedly on my Early Years website here